


i'm addicted

by fruti2flutie



Category: UP10TION
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6499354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fruti2flutie/pseuds/fruti2flutie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“we casually hook up at parties sometimes but this time you got so drunk you couldn’t make it all the way back to your dorm so i let you crash in my room because it was closer and it turns out you’re really cute when you wake up in the morning, fuck” inspired</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm addicted

**Author's Note:**

> (this was supposed to be college au orz)
> 
> if u dont know me i'm the trash bag that is now contributing to the up10 tag on ao3. hi. this is the end of my spring break......... what a great way to descend back into hell amiright
> 
> // 04/16/2016: I LEFT OUT A LINE I'M SORRY I JUST FIXED IT MYYY BAD

According to all his friends, there are three words that can accurately describe Lee Sungjun: tall, hungry, and boring. He agrees with two-thirds of the list, but _boring_? Seriously? That’s just not fair.

“Well, you _are_ ,” Dongyeol mewls, chewing at the rim of his drink. There’s a whiff of citrus coming from the clear liquid, underneath the pungent scent of cheap vodka.

“I’m not!” Sungjun exclaims, and he wobbles a little and spills some of his beer on his pants. Whoops. “If I was so boring,” he says, ignoring the wet sensation seeping onto his thigh, “then why am I at this party? Hm? Enlighten me!”

“To get drunk,” Jinwook chimes, relaxing on the couch. He looks too sober for the conversation, so Wooseok feebly tries to push at his face but ends up falling seated onto his lap. Jinwook pats his head and gives him a kiss for the attempt. “And to get laid, too.”

“That isn’t—” Sungjun pauses. He’s at someone’s birthday party, in a cramped apartment with a decent number of attendees. However, all Sungjun cares about is one fluffy-haired brunet, with doe eyes and bunny teeth. “Okay, yeah,” he concedes, nodding slowly. “You right, you right.”

“Doesn’t count,” slurs Wooseok, making himself comfortable on Jinwook’s crotch. Jinwook absently nuzzles at his neck, kissing the exposed collarbone. “You only always... with that one guy... high-pitched voice... hoodies...”

“Hypocrite,” coughs Dongyeol, and Jinwook throws a kick in his direction.

“Yein,” sighs Sungjun, feeling lightheaded at the mere sound of his name (or maybe that’s the alcohol). He juts out his lower lip, swirling the beer in his cup. “I haven’t seen him at all tonight.”

Jinwook whistles. “Maybe he didn’t come,” he proposes.

Sungjun frowns. “No,” he mutters. “He has to be here.”

This _thing_ that Sungjun and Yein have had has been going on since freshmen year, when they’d encountered one another for the first time. Neither of them gets out much, preferring mellow nights to loud parties, but the day they met had been the day Sungjun decided he’d listen to Wooseok for once. The party had been some frat’s celebration, with an endless supply of booze, drinking games, and stranger hookups. Across the room Yein, dressed in a blue hoodie and ripped jeans, had instantly caught Sungjun’s eye. Sungjun had had enough drinks to approach him and they talked — about music, about food, about any and everything. Yein’s voice was breezy and harmonious, like singing doves or buzzing hummingbirds in Sungjun’s ears. He could tell, through the haze of alcohol and lust, that Yein’s lips molded perfectly against his own. One step led to another, Sungjun’s dorm had been empty, and—

That’s how it started.

FWB? Almost. The sex is definitely a benefit, which normally saves Sungjun from a night of unwanted partying as Yein would swoop by and capture his attention. They’ve hovered precariously over the “friends” territory, except Sungjun is bad at talking to Yein when he’s sober. Any interaction with Yein outside of the bedroom ends with flustered glances and nervous stuttering, and it’s a miracle Yein hasn’t told him he’s too awkward to hang out with. He can hardly call _that_ a friendship. If anything, he can call it a hopeless crush (while he’s three beers in, because he’s not one to admit that willingly).

“He has to be here somewhere. He has to,” Sungjun murmurs stubbornly, swallowing the rest of his beer. “Ugh, I need another drink.” Automatically, he looks at Dongyeol and shakes his empty cup. “Go fetch, maknae. I want something fruity. I’ll give you a treat later.”

“I am so going to _kill_ Hwanhee,” Dongyeol mutters as he snatches the cup. He walks away, grumbling to himself, “You wear a dog collar _one time_...”

“Kill him _after_ he makes my drink!”

For the rest of the night Sungjun sulks, drinking _a lot_ of alcohol by the time the clock strikes two. Yein isn’t anywhere to be seen — usually they rendezvous at midnight, but Sungjun doesn’t see the shorter head of brunet hair anywhere. Sungjun has his number, saved under _seon yein_ , and against his better judgment he sends out a text:

_i wanna see u_

Between the seventh and the eighth shot of tequila and regret, Sungjun blacks out.

—

Sunshine. Somehow, the sheet pressed over Sungjun’s body smells like pure, radiating sunshine. Or maybe it’s honey; he gets those mixed up sometimes — but at least they’re the same color. He’s scared that if he opens his eyes he’ll go blind, but the hangover he currently feels is probably worse. Even still, he cracks open an eye and is greeted by an sleeping angel doused in a shining light.

No, it’s no angel — Seon Yein is sleeping in his arms, head tucked under Sungjun’s chin, snoozing peacefully. The resting figure resembles perfection; it’s no surprise Sungjun mistook him for an angel. The familiar smell of honey makes a lot more sense now; Yein uses honey-scented shampoo for his hair, which he’s bleached his hair platinum blond, no longer the familiar color of roasted hazelnuts. His lips are a touch pink, dark eyelashes fanning onto warm cheeks. Oddly enough, all of his clothes are still on his body, a baggy t-shirt and long sweatpants.

Sungjun, astonishingly, is clothed, too. He’s in his shirt from yesterday’s party, but his jeans are off and he’s left in his boxers, legs curled around Yein’s. Huh.

Did... Did Sungjun hook up with Yein? If he did, that would mean he (assuming he’s at Yein’s place) would be out by the morning— or at the very least be naked, because Sungjun’s a lazy fuck who throws all his clothes onto the floor because they get in the way of more important areas of the body. But all Sungjun remembers from last night is moping, complaining, and drinking everything in sight, which has unfortunately led him to this nasty headache.

Now that he’s awake, though, he _should_ leave. That’s normally what happens. They’ve never done something so intimate like this before— not to say that sex isn’t intimate, but Yein snuggling closer Sungjun’s chest, purring like some satiated kitten, is an act that makes him feel like he’s overstepping an unidentifiable bound.

Yet Sungjun stays. Yein is warm in his arms, fitting comfortably in his embrace. Sungjun buries his face in Yein’s golden hair, relishing in the moment, and hopes the other man is a deep sleeper as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of his head. And, of course, Yein begins to stir.

“Are you awake?” mumbles Yein, because Sungjun has horrible luck and the universe hates him. “Sungjun, are you awake?”

Sungjun holds his breath. If he can pretend to be asleep, maybe Yein won’t be aware of Sungjun’s desire to stay, to hold him, to be in love. He keeps his eyes closed, even as Yein starts to wriggle and move away from Sungjun’s arms. The warmth is surely missed, and Sungjun tries to conceal his frown.

Suddenly, there’s a soft touch to Sungjun’s lips, plush and recognizable. Yein’s kisses have always been his favorite, a balance of push and pull, smearing chapstick onto the corners of Sungjun’s lips. Instinctively he reciprocates by letting his mouth fall open, hooking his hands on Yein’s hips and exhaling through his nose. The morning makes kissing more languid, relaxed, like there’s no rush or urgency to their movements. As Yein pulls back Sungjun tries to follow, but he puts his hands on Sungjun’s chest.

“You were supposed to be asleep,” mutters Yein, pouting, cheeks and lips a shade pinker than before.

“Sorry,” Sungjun says breathlessly. “I thought... you would tell me to leave. Because this is new, and different, and this makes me want to hold your hand and date you even more.” He grimaces, biting his tongue. “Uh, ignore that.”

Yein’s eyes widen. “What if I don’t want to?” He places his hands on Sungjun’s cheeks, rubbing the pads of his thumbs under his eyes. “Please tell me you’re asking me out.”

“Is that what you want?” Sungjun says, hopeful. What if he’s still drunk? What if he’s dreaming? Yein must be able to read minds because he pinches Sungjun’s nose, not enough to hurt but enough to make him wince.

“Do you not remember what happened yesterday?” Yein asks, sitting up.

“I was very, very, _very_ drunk,” Sungjun responds, because that is a viable excuse for having a shit memory.

“You texted me,” says Yein. He’s still blushing, and that makes Sungjun crack a small smile. “You said you wanted to see me.”

“Oh, fuck,” curses Sungjun. That can’t be good.

“I wasn’t at the party you went to. I thought that I didn’t need to see you again, we’re only fuck buddies, but...” Yein bites his lip. “After I got your text I couldn’t just stay put. I came by and looked for you. I thought— I thought you must _really_ be drunk or must _really_ want a hook up.”

“Yein,” Sungjun whispers. “I never meant to it like that, I swear.”

“You _were_ drunk,” Yein goes on. “That was as clear as day.” Quietly, he stares at his lap and sleepily rubs at his eyes. “Once I found you, all you did was hug me. Sort of like a giant koala, pretty cute. You latched on so tight, and none of your friends could get you off me. I asked them if you’ve ever done that before, and Wooseok said, ‘Only to you.’

“You were in no condition to do anything, really, so I brought you back to my dorm to sleep. I _was_ going to let you have the bed while I slept on the couch, but you— you still wouldn’t let go!” Yein’s ears are burning red, which means he’s as embarrassed as Sungjun currently feels, give or take the mortification, too.

“I’m so sorry,” Sungjun says, “if I made anything uncomfortable for you.”

Shaking his head, Yein continues softly, “You told me I was beautiful.” _Fuck_ his life, Sungjun wants to bury himself alive. “You told me I had the most gorgeous smile, the prettiest eyes; you showered me in so many compliments. I kept wondering if— if you were mistaken, if you thought I was someone else—”

“Of course not,” interjects Sungjun. “Yein, you’re absolutely wonderful.”

Yein’s shoulders sag in relief. “I really like you, Sungjun,” he confesses timidly, “but I think I went the wrong way about it. Backwards, mainly.”

“Me, too,” chuckles Sungjun. “I’m not so good with words, especially when it comes to you.” He takes Yein’s hand, shyly pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “But, if you’ll let me, I can try to fix that.”

“Thank you,” Yein says, sighing. “I’d like that.”

Sungjun reaches out to comb his fingers through Yein’s hair, gently unknotting the tangled strands. “This color is nice,” he muses. “It brings out your eyes.”

Yein smiles. “I wanted a change,” he admits, shrugging.

Sungjun leans forward and kisses his cheek. “Honey, you got one.”

It takes five minutes and Yein’s heartfelt declaration of “It wasn’t _that_ cheesy... I liked it!” to get Sungjun from trying to smother himself with a pillow. Sungjun doesn’t deserve Yein, who pats his back affectionately and tells him, “I will allow you to be greasy, as long as you’re _only_ greasy with me.”

Man, is he smitten.


End file.
